was the last time he’d been aware of the birds? Of the subtle voices from the other room? He flexed his fingers, clenched his hand into a fist, knuckles sliding against soft blankets. His muscles felt weak, but there was a distinct lack of pain.
One-hundred-and-twenty-one, one-hundred-and-twenty-two.
He opened his eyes.
He was home.
That had to be a dream.
Licking his lips, he turned his head. Everything was as he remembered it. The sheepskin rug on the floor, his dresser in the corner with the dragon statuettes lined on top, and the star map on the wall above, the two bookcases packed with books from all corners of Sharoani, and even a few language books from Kal Valreus and Irades. A bouquet of fresh kelarisa flowers stood on his bedside table and the window was open, letting in a soft breeze and the scent of freshly baked bread.
“One-hundred-and-fifty,” he whispered. He was still awake.
Slowly, shaking, he sat up.
How had he gotten here?
Taking a deep breath, Kalai rubbed at his eyes. Ran his tongue over his teeth that felt strangely sensitive. He tried remembering, but his mind was so fuzzy, all his memories jumbled.
They fled Valreus, went to the Terror Marshes, met Andreus, traveled to Sharoani…
They had met a young man. Jinhai. He told them he could get them into the temple. Had they gone?
Kalai craned his neck back, staring at the wooden plank ceiling.
They had.
Tauran had been scared in the elevator, so Kalai had held his hand. They waited for hours on a bench. He had felt sick.
Then…
Then, nothing.
Had he blacked out in the temple?
Mighty dragons, he really needed to relieve himself.
Kalai knew from experience that standing up too quickly after an episode could send him crashing again. Instead, he shuffled sideways until he could grab the edge of the dresser, then slowly, carefully, pulled to his feet.
Stars danced and popped in the corners of his vision and he focused on breathing deep, on letting his body adjust to the upright position. Carefully, he straightened. So far, so good.
He turned to the door, one step at a time. At least the bathroom was only just outside and to the left. It scared him how weak his grip on the doorknob was. Like he hadn’t properly used his hands in weeks.
He pushed the door open.
“Ish-ka vo la.. rashkaska ie….” Tauran sat at the small round table in the main room, which looked comically undersized contrasted with Tauran’s large frame. He had one foot propped up on the firewood basket, a book in his lap, and a line between his brows. At the sound of the door, he looked up, pure shock erasing his concentrated frown, and he jerked from the chair, the book sliding off his lap and onto the floor. “Kalai! Whoa, you shouldn’t be up.” Tauran was at his side in an instant, hands tight on Kalai’s shoulders. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Sorry, I… I need to use the bathroom,” Kalai said, meeting Tauran’s wide eyes. But then something else caught his attention. Tauran had a light but distinct beard. Kalai stared at it. He definitely didn’t remember Tauran being this scruffy.
Tauran stared back for a long moment, seemingly as confused as Kalai felt. “How… are you feeling?” he asked, slowly.
“Uhm. Pretty weak. A little sore, I guess.”
“A little sore,” Tauran repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what he heard. He made a sound halfway between a breath and a laugh. A whole series of emotions flitted across his face, too quick for Kalai to follow. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “That’s good. That’s good to hear.”
Before Kalai could think of an answer, Tauran wrapped his arms around him, face pressed against the side of Kalai’s neck. But there was something off about that, too. Tauran always hugged him tight, strong arms anchoring him like nothing could pull them apart. Kalai loved every moment of those hugs. But this embrace was gentle, too gentle. Cautious. As if Tauran feared Kalai would crack under too tight a squeeze.
“What’s wrong?” Kalai pushed against Tauran’s chest, and Tauran immediately released him.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Tauran said, searching his eyes.
“But you’re acting weird.” Kalai’s gaze fell on Tauran’s face again, the half-scruff, half-beard darkening his jawline.
“Well, it’s… been a bit of a tough time.”
Nervousness sent a shiver across Kalai’s skin. “How long was I sick?”
Tauran swallowed visibly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Twenty-two days, love.”
“Twenty-two…” Kalai shook his head. A few days, sure. A week, maybe. “That can’t be right.”
Tauran’s expression was pained. “Why